This Is Not Love
by NicolinaN
Summary: If Lisa had remained attracted to Jackson after what he put her through, then she'd be pretty damaged, wouldn't she? Damaged like him. When Jackson returns, who will drag who down into their own private hell? Warning: dark themes. LJ.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything related to the beautiful movie Red Eye; it just sparks my imagination,

**Author's Note: **Dark. Dark. I'm thinking dark... working on dark. If Lisa remained attracted to Jackson after all he did to her, then she'd be pretty damaged, wouldn't she? Wouldn't their connection be dark and twisted, bringing them both to a fall?

This came to me like a feverish fantasy while at work one late night... She is not well, and neither is he. My intention is to show that in writing, to let the reader feel the confusion and pain.

I hope. //Nic.

-

**This Is Not Love**

-

He came for her.

For the third time, he came for her. Like a blue-eyed avenger out of the stories she remembered from childhood, like a dark lover seeking out the virgin he'd lost... He was so beautiful, he hurt to see.

She was not well. The sleeping pills had just started to have some effect, making his appearance seem all the more unreal.

Hallucinatory.

Leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze stabbed right through her, making her heart tremble and her soul weak. Two sleepless nights had made her mind dizzy and her soul indecisive.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm doing here."

She shivered from the cold night air that he let in through the open door. Her thin cotton pajama pants and her sleeveless top didn't offer much protection. Yet she was reluctant to let him inside. She'd heard about vampires, that if you asked them to come in, then you were doomed. The comparison seemed all too relevant; he would suck the life out of her if she gave in. She would weaken and he would grow stronger.

_If you open your mouth... will there be fangs? _

She shook her head to clear her mind.

"Jackson... it's not right. You'd better leave before I call the police." She swallowed hard; trying to sound convincing, to put some strength to her words, sucked out the little energy she had. _Please don't make me do things I'll regret._

He smirked. "Hah! Think I'd let you?"

"Think you can stop me?" she challenged angrily and jumped back as his arm struck out to catch her.

He didn't pursue, but remained still, and yet in motion with his vivid presence. His body radiating heat, power... the right to possess... "Leese..." he said slowly, "Don't make this so hard. You know it doesn't have to be."

"Close the door, please," she whispered, suddenly so weak, her naked arms filled with goosebumps.

"From the inside or the outside," he taunted.

"Jackson... don't be so difficult," she replied softly, submissively.

He lifted one corner of his mouth into a half-grin and entered, closing the door behind him, enwrapping them both in darkness.

-

-

It was the third night he'd showed up at her door step. A soft rustle of feet on the carpet outside, followed by a discreet knocking on the door had each of the two previous nights foreboded the first reaction of fright, then the pain, the longing and the insane feeling of belonging.

Each of the previous nights had she rejected him, screamed at him, hurt him all that she could muster. She'd made him go away... only to see him return the next night, and the next night again.

Tonight he'd gotten inside faster than before.

-

-

Oh, she wasn't stupid.

She knew too of the strong attraction between them. She knew all too well what he wanted.

And she couldn't. She just couldn't.

It would mean she'd lose her sanity, her mind, her freedom and her faith in herself.

-

-

Her heart pounded at an insane pace at his closeness as he strode forward. She studied his face in the faint light from a small lamp in the next room, and he let her. Her eyes roamed his high cheekbones, his full lips, his clear eyes that were such an enigma, both sucking her in and wanting to kill her with their stare. Three months had passed since they'd first met.

A nature's disaster; an earthquake, a tornado, a plane crash...

A mind's melt down.

A meeting at an airport, tumultuous terror on an airplane and frightening wrath in a house.

And then emptiness.

Pain.

Loss.

It had been three horrifyingly long months filled with self-loathing, pain, and unmentionable feelings of want, desire and anger.

He stretched out his arm and touched her cold skin with the tip of his fingers. Lisa shied away from him while her body screamed for more, mumbling, "Don't."

"Why?" His fingers lingered still at her skin.

"It's not right." Lisa could barely breathe, he head spun.

"What is right?" he countered quietly.

"Anything but this..."

"Do you want to fight me again? Is that right?"

"No... it isn't..." She shook her head and melted away once more as he lifted his other arm towards her hand.

"What do you want then?" he asked, deceptively softly.

"Not the same as you."

"Aha. What do I want, then?"

"I don't know, Jackson. It's you who keep showing up at my door step."

"It's you who let me in." He strode closer and Lisa backed into the wall. Wild-eyed, she glanced to the side for an escape as he towered her. "Why is that?" he asked. She could feel his breath on her face, but she couldn't lift her eyes to look into his. "Why haven't you called the police?"

"It's... ahm, because..."

She could almost feel his dark heart reverberate against her own frail chest. The heat from his body made her skin want to stretch towards him to ease the eternal coldness within.

Yet she couldn't. If she would give in to the bodily desire, to the feral attraction that had formed between them, she knew she'd want more. Need more.

More than he could give.

Jackson was not a good man. Not the gentle kind. He wouldn't stay. He wouldn't care for her after. He would ravage her and be done. He'd take what she would give without giving anything back.

The temporary heat and belonging would be replaced by a bottomless sea of sorrow and loss.

It would be a disaster.

Knowing all this, she was still unable to throw him out of her house. And each time she let him in, the catastrophe came closer.

And she couldn't leave as the winner of this game no matter what she did.

_I DON'T WANT YOU! _

But he didn't listen. With the backside of his hand, he slowly caressed her upper arm from her shoulder down towards her elbow.

Lisa flinched and jumped to the side, only to get caught as he gripped around her waist.

"Don't," she rasped with a voice she barely recognized as her own, her heart speeding insanely from the touch.

Unwanted.

Needed.

"Then make me not to... convince me, Leese, that this isn't what you want too." He inched closer and pressed his body against hers and bent his head towards her ear, whispering, making her shiver in his grasp, "Let me make love to you."

"Love," she snorted with disgust. She felt him smile against her cheek and then the nibbling of all too soft lips at the thin skin over her neck.

Everything inside of her screamed, and she couldn't tell one voice apart from another. _What? What? _She felt like she would explode any moment and pushed hard at his chest, separating their bodies and making him lose his balance for a second.

"Leave! Leave! Now!" Her voice broke, and she roared with new strength at him as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers in a forcefully stolen kiss.

With a triumphant smile, he tore away and left her gasping, longing for more, but rather dying than admitting it.

It felt like treason when he turned and left without looking back.

Like she died a little.

The door slammed shut and in the silent night she heard an engine roar to life somewhere in the distance. Just like the nights before she slumped into a heap on the floor where they had stood, biting her lips bloodied not to succumb to tears. Wiping the blood, the saliva, and the feeling of him off her lips with the back of her hand, she fought the urge to punch her fist hard into the wall.

_Bastard!_

_Next time I'll call the police. _

_-_

_-_

_If there'll be a next time..._

-

-

He stood over her sleeping form. Breathing, waiting, watching, tightening his hands and opening them in an unconscious rhythmic pattern. Temporarily on hold. It was the fourth night, and she'd been asleep when he came. She hadn't reacted as he'd manipulated a window and entered from the backside. _Exhausted? Sleeping pills? Alcohol? _

She looked peaceful where she lay on her back, with her hand resting beside her face on the pillow, her fingers curled like a baby's. Her face looked ethereal; pale skin on a white pillow, surrounded by tresses of unruly dark hair.

He hadn't really seen her look so content before. At the airport, she'd been smiling but with tension radiating from her whole soul, like restraining herself to remain calm. She'd relaxed a little after a while, but the feeling that she could flee like a shy deer at any second had never quite left him. Then he'd seen her go through various states of a hesitant flirting, fright, anger and rage... and possibly regret, or hurt, at the last moments in Joe's hallway.

Maybe that was it. That feeling that he'd never quite caught her; that she was like a wild animal, just temporarily tamed, that made him want to break her.

Possess her.

He'd never followed a mark like this. Eight weeks of surveillance prior to the actual encounter, and now eight more weeks post the disaster it had turned out to be. It was clearly exaggerated.

Not a clever career move.

It had taken him five weeks to heal enough to get out of the hospital. During his initial unconsciousness he'd been removed from the state hospital to a private where his anonymity could be preserved. Like many times before he'd disappeared like he'd never existed. His men had taken care of that.

It had amused him to catch up with what had happened after the attack. How Lisa had to defend herself and try to explain that there had in fact been a man. Eventually, she'd been rescued by the flight attendant's testimony, the one who had seen her cry. And her father's observations.

_But you were close, Leese. Close to go to jail for me. _

_Because of me. _

He smiled.

Ever so slowly, he raised his hand and caressed her temple. Her face twitched and she mumbled something in her sleep. Jackson pulled back his hand and leaned closer to catch what she was saying, but nothing more came out.

His body filled with eagerness and desire as he inched closer again and let his palm glide over the blanket that covered her body. He could feel the shape of her underneath and the urge to rip it all off and just take her was so strong that he staggered backwards.

_Not like this! _

It would be so much sweeter when she gave herself to him. He wanted her to know for the rest of her life that she had willingly given herself to her tormentor. He needed to pull her down with him; to suck her into the depths of his darkness and pain.

He knew it tugged at her. He knew of her own hell that she had fought to rescue herself away from the last couple of years without succeeding. He knew she wanted to taste the danger again, to see if she could win this time.

Or if she would finally lose.

He knew it; he felt it - how she sought it. Sought him.

_Leese... wake up..._

He hesitated to disturb the little moment of peace. He let her sleep.

He'd be back.

-

-

The first night she'd yelled and tried to slam the door shut in his face. He had smirked and held her as she fought him. When he'd left, his body had made an imprint on hers that took a whole sleepless night to get rid of.

The second night she'd gotten just as frightened, but the anger over her disturbed peace had given her strength to battle him more viciously. They had ended up on the floor, and when he had left her, he'd had a split upper lip. He hadn't tried to hurt her, just held her away as she basically attempted to injure him all that she could.

When he'd left she'd screamed with anger, or hurt... or both. The ache inside had been tearing at her like ravaging wolves.

-

-

The fourth night he hadn't showed up. When the morning broke on the fifth day, she woke with a gasp and sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding with fear, her head dizzy from the drugs.

_He didn't come?_

She refused to acknowledge the feelings of betrayal that lingered under the surface. Instead she decided it was a good thing that he hadn't come.

A very good thing.

She pulled a strand of hair away from her temple and twitched as her body subconsciously remembered a touch, a sensation of softness, but was unable to connect it to anything she knew of. The ache in her chest was probably due to the exercise she'd put herself through at the gym the day before. Trying to get rid of it, she went again and pushed herself to the limit and past it.

_NOT gonna think of it. _

She exhaled when she heard someone at the door later the fifth night. Laying her forehead against the door, she listened, feeling a living, breathing, shining presence at the other side.

HIS presence.

It radiated through the wooden door itself, almost making it quiver. Like even dead material could feel the dark energy he emitted, the whole in him that sucked all warmth and light out of all living.

"Go away," she rasped, her voice hoarse from crying.

There was a short pause. "Open the door, Leese."

"No. Leave, or I'll call the police. This time I will."

When she didn't hear a response, she waited. "Jackson?"

Nothing. She didn't move, just inhaled - exhaled - inhaled - exhaled. Slowly, she opened the door; just a small crack to take a peak. No one was outside. _Did I dream it?_

She closed it again, and secured the lock. When she turned around, she screamed in shock; Jackson was standing right behind her. A smirk on his beautiful face, his frighteningly beautiful face, dark hair partially covering his eyes. The smirk pulled her towards him, her fingers itched to touch him; to hit him; to ravage him; to wipe that smug look off his features and make him bleed. To hurt him the way she was hurt.

She slapped him. Hard.

His hand struck out to grip her wrist, but she'd been quicker, surprising him with the violent act.

The hate and wrath inside of her was frightening. A mirror of the incident, the trauma, from two years ago. She thought she'd buried that and moved on, but Jackson's forced entry into her life had awoken all those feelings. And more.

Much more.

Jackson pushed her into the wall and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

"Like to fight, don't you?" He licked the blood off of his lower lip, sucking at it.

"No." She squirmed in his grip and panted, "I'd like to be left alone." Her eyes never left his mouth; it was an almost perverse pleasure to watch him bleed.

"I don't think so," he breathed into her face.

"Why?" she cried out in despair, wriggling, trying to get free.

"Because you and me, Leese, we're the same."

"No we're not!"

"Yes, we are. What turned you into such a loner, Leese? It wasn't only the rape, was it? You'd buried yourself in work since long before that, never felt like you belonged..."

"I did!"

He let his free hand wander over her back; she felt it warm and surprisingly tender as he explored the curves of her body... Until she stomped on his foot as hard as she could. Jackson gasped and cursed, letting her go momentarily.

"Get OFF me, you filthy... bastard!"

"Too prude to say fuck?"

"Fuck you!"

"Good girl."

"I'm NOT a 'good girl'!"

He smirked in triumph. "I know."

"Aaaah!" She groaned with frustration and shoved at his chest. "Go away!"

"You do like to touch me, don't you?"

She knew she did, and she hated him. She blamed him for turning her head, for playing with her mind until she didn't know what was real and what wasn't any more.

"Please, leave," she whispered in a broken voice.

He regarded her, and then he nodded. "I'll leave if you kiss me."

"NO WAY!"

He shrugged. "I'll stay then."

Lisa looked at his lips, his full lips, watching fascinated as he again licked them with the tip of his tongue, staring challengingly at her. Her gaze darted to his crystalline eyes that glinted with wickedness.

Oh, she was devastatingly attracted to him, had been all from start, and all she could do was fight him. Fight it.

But one little kiss wouldn't be that dangerous... Just one... Then he'd leave.

Quickly, before she'd change her mind, she lifted her face to his and kissed him on the chin. Jackson moved like lightning, catching her with one hand on each side of her head and prevented her from moving away from him. She wriggled in his grip, but he held her steady.

Snickering, he cocked his head. "That was no kiss."

"It was," she gasped and pushed at his chest.

He grinned and moved closer, his face a blur. Her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest as his lips touched hers. Groaning, she struggled in his hold as he deepened the kiss and let his tongue slide over her closed lips. She pressed them tighter as her whole body screamed for more of that softness, that taste with a tang of metal to it, and that smell.

-

-

He pulled back, his eyes never leaving hers.

"THAT was a kiss," he taunted.

She was a vision; her cheeks were blushing, she had a fiery look in her eyes, making them look like they could catch fire, and even her hair was tousled.

_Looks fucking sexy. But you don't really know that, do you? You don't know how you affect men. _

He knew how she'd affected him. He had wanted her dead. He'd wanted to cut into that soft, deliciously white throat, let the knife work its way through skin, muscles, tendons and vessels until he'd have buried it deep inside the delicate vertebrae of her neck, breaking them in halves...

But that was then.

It had matured.

Grown.

The hate and loathing had transformed into something larger than life. Something sacred. He would bring her down. Even if it brought him all the way to hell. But it had to happen.

Now he could see his long pale fingers grip into her flesh, bruising this perfect creature, terrifying her and still exciting her. He knew that. He could almost smell it on her... see it in her eyes. Fright mixed with excitement.

_I can give you what you need, Leese. _

It was almost like love. Not that he knew what people called love, but it felt close enough. He had to make her his. One way or the other.

If he could drag her down to the abyss of his own need, hate and desperation...

_Then you'll live..._

-

-

They way he looked at her made her tremble in his hold. She felt his hands against her lower cheeks, aware of their strength, knowing all too well that if he moved the slightest lower, they'd be around her neck, and he could snap her in two. She wouldn't stand a chance.

_I dare you!_

The danger heightened her senses; made her feel more vibrant and alive than she had for years. Possibly forever.

As his hands slid lower, she gasped and jerked her head back. He skin ached empty from the loss when he suddenly let her go, taking a step back and nailing her with his gaze before he coolly turned and walked out the door.

_-_

_-_

'_Let me make love to you.' _

_Get out of my HEAD!_

The sixth night she spent with her father and his fiancé. She lingered there for as long as she dared without waking suspicions. Still her soul itched from being at the wrong place when there was a right place to go to.

Where she wasn't...

Where HE might be...

...soon... at this very moment... maybe it would be too late?

Listening to the conversations, nodding in all the right places and adding a 'yes' or a 'no' occasionally, she tried to melt in, not to make it obvious how bothered she was.

It was the sixth night of the sleepless hell she'd been thrown into.

Since she hadn't told anyone to begin with... how could she possibly tell anybody now? How could she confess before her concerned father that she hadn't gone straight to the police the moment Jackson had left her the first time? How could he understand that she'd fallen into a heap on the floor and cried bitter tears instead, wishing to be touched again, for someone, or something, to reach her heart? How could she explain to him that she had opened the expensive whiskey she'd bought for his birthday and drunken herself into a stupor?

Lisa suddenly felt ill. _What if he's there now? What will he do if I'm not at home when he comes? Will he come here? Will he hurt people?_ She realized that Jackson felt as stable as quant matter, that he could hurt somebody if she didn't... _Do what? What do you think you can do? _

_It's me he's after... I can save the others..._

She wasn't thinking straight anymore. The wine had gotten to her and her thinking was sluggish and her mind warped. Piercing blue eyes followed her wherever she went. Relentlessly. Chillingly. Temptingly.

A rush of coldness swept through her, and she rose. Making some hasty excuses, she called for a taxi, kissed her father goodbye with the frightening feeling it might be for the last time, and stumbled out from safety.

Evil.

No, she wasn't sure. But in a way she was certain; he didn't want to do good.

He was not that kind of man.

She knew exactly what kind of man he was - and she wanted him.

Badly.

She wanted to hurt him the way he'd hurt her. The way all men had hurt her.

_Crush him. Stomp on him. Make him beg. Make him see it coming and know there's no way back._

_-_

_-_

_I am so afraid._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **If the creators of Jackson and Lisa saw what I'm doing to them, they'd sell them cheap. But as of yet, I don't own them.

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for such an overwhelming response! I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing... feels like all hell has broken lose in my brain... Ehm, sorry about that. I just keep threading deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of their minds, and it has turned out to be a scary place. I don't claim this to be real; plausible... that was another fic. I'm exploring how twisted one can be, what hurt can do to you – on multiple levels.

I don't know about rating, really, I'm trying to balance it, but there ARE some mentions of... well... what can happen between a man and a woman under some circumstances... and there ARE some blood shed...

:wipes sweat off forehead:

Go read. //Nic.

-

**2.**

When she stood on her porch, her fingers felt numb, and she dropped the key twice before she could insert it in the lock and turn the mechanism. Even though she anticipated it, she jerked when the sharp click pierced the quiet night. The house was dark and as silent as she had left it.

_Didn't I leave the light on in the bedroom window?_

She couldn't see it from here, but she was pretty sure it had been shining when she'd left.

Slowly, she reached for the door and opened it. A faint scent of fresh laundry lingered still and soothed her rushing mind. It felt normal.

Shaking off the eerie feelings, she threw her bag and keys on the table next to the door and hung her jacket on a hook. Slamming the door shut behind her, banishing the demons, she jumped herself from the sudden bang and the hair at the back of her neck stood straight up.

_What if he's here? _

_What if he isn't here? _

She didn't know which of the thoughts made her chest ache and tie itself into a knot of fearful expectation.

When she advanced into the living room, trying to switch on the light, she found it wasn't working. Swearing to herself, she went to the kitchen, trying to turn on the lights there without any result. It had been only a couple of weeks since she'd had a major electrical malfunction, killing the fridge, all the lights, the hot water, the dry blower... Everything she needed and appreciated.

She grimaced and opened the fridge. Yes. It was dark, and not as cold as it ought to be.

_Too tired, too drunk... I'll deal with this tomorrow._

Pulling out the bottom drawer by the window, she acquired some unused candles that had been left over since the blackout, and a box of matches. In her blind, fumbling search, the tips of her fingers also stumbled upon a small knife.

Lisa never hesitated and stuffed it in the lining of her pants.

_I know what you can do ... I'm just not gonna stay unguarded anymore_...

She went to the bathroom, washed her face, and ended up leaning her forehead against the mirror where she could see the vague outlines of her features. The soft yellowish light of the candle made shadows dance over her hollow cheeks. Pulling a little at the skin below her eyes, she wondered when the dark circles had appeared, she didn't recall seeing them a few days ago.

-

-

She was back.

He was here. He had been here for hours.

He could smell her.

A tension filled the air in the house. Expectation. It was the sixth night.

_You little bitch; did you try to keep away? Did you think you could escape?_

He had been really fucking mad for a while, sitting here in the empty, cold darkness, listening to nothing but the faint sound of the ocean in a distance, the occasional car that drove by, and the humming of the fridge. The fucking, irregular humming of the fridge...

Until he decided it was enough and killed it.

Slamming a hammer onto the main circuits on the back of the house had sent a bow of bluish-white light across the yard... _Beautiful!_ Then it had gotten blissfully quiet.

He knew where she'd been. _Joe Reisert._ He could slash the old man's throat for shooting him, for being someone Lisa loved, for taking up her time tonight when he needed her so much more... or simply for the fun of it.

His upper lip curled unconsciously into an expression of loathing. _Human emotions._ He had to keep quiet for yet a few minutes or he would prematurely give away his presence here, but he wanted to slam something into something, see it crack, fall to pieces.

Preferably a head.

He heard her rummage in the kitchen, then in the bathroom...

_What's taking you so long, Leese? _

His urge to go and lay his arms around that delicate body was so strong that he had to dig his nails into his palms until he had produced four deep red crescents in each of them, the pain doing little too quench his desire. He wanted to see her naked, he wanted to smell her fear, he wanted her small, begging on the floor, he wanted to watch her bleed...

He wanted her... fully, every part of her until there were nothing left. To suck her in like she was air and he was lacking...

He was unarmed.

Hearing her cautiously entering the bedroom, where he sat still in a chair in a dark corner, he suddenly knew she wasn't...

A smile slowly spread across his features.

_Good fun._

-

-

Lisa had taken her time. She had decided she was alone, and she wasn't even going to look around her house. In the bathroom she had tried to enjoy the beauty of the lit candle, made herself busy with evening procedures even though her body screamed of exhaustion, changed into her pajama and tucked the kitchen knife in the lining of the pants. Of course she wasn't going to need it...

Teeth brushed. Hair in a simple tail. The wine was still buzzing in her head and her limbs felt relaxed and ready for sleep.

_Maybe I can actually sleep tonight? _

She held a hand on the box with little white pills. _Just a little aid... No... I can do without..._

She blew out the candle and turned to leave but stopped in the doorway.

Without thinking, she went back, poured a couple of the little savers in her palm and threw them in her mouth, swallowing dry as she left the bathroom. Stopping right outside the door, she turned determinedly, took the box once more and shook out yet another pill.

It felt like losing... to HIM... that she had to take pills to get some sleep... But nonetheless, drug induced sleep was far better than no sleep. She knew that from own bitter experience.

The hallway was frighteningly dark. Passing the living room, she could barely make out the contours of the furniture. With one hand on the knife and the other stretched in front of her, she felt her way into the bedroom.

It was dark as a tomb.

Habit made her try to switch on the light, but the room remained dark. Lisa stopped and listened. Swaying a little as she tried to sense the presence of the man she feared more than death.

...and longed for more than life itself.

Nothing was heard. All there was were the sounds of her aggravated breathing and the quite shuffle of her feet on the carpet.

_Bed's there... I'm here... two steps..._ It was like chasing ghosts when she was a kid... except this ghost was terribly real... if she reached bed she'd be safe...

_One step. _

A hand. A steel grip on the hand that held the knife. A body pressed towards her from behind in the dark. A cheek against her own. A whisper.

"Gotta take this, Leese... someone might get hurt..."

Her heart skipped a beat. She didn't even scream. She was too shocked. He relieved her of the knife. Her only safety. Now in his hands... lethal...

"Jackson," she whispered, her skin already aching from where he touched her.

"Yes," he said in a soft voice.

Her knees buckled, oh, how she wanted to give in. The heat radiating from his body carried a promise of belonging, of an ending to the pain, of needs fulfilled and then of bliss.

Eternal bliss.

She knew she wouldn't survive another encounter with Jackson. He knew of her weaknesses now, and in the weeks that had passed since they first met, she had thinned out, too little sleep and too much mourning had done that to her.

_If I just let you... what is it you want with me? _

It was so tempting to stop struggling. To just give him what he wanted.

"Why are you here?" she whispered in a hoarse voice. Terrified. Delighted.

"Why, why, why? That is such a boring question, don't you think? Ask instead what we can do..."

"No... no, I don't think I want to hear about that." Her body already told her the answer. The invitation his lean, strong body gave out, pressed up against hers, her despicable, traitorous body had already answered to a hundred times over. She was more than ready for him, to meet him, to let him intrude... take over. And she knew it would be the end of her and of life as she knew it.

_I can't! _

But it was more of a self-persuasion than an attempt to convince him.

"Leese," he purred in her ear. He had gotten rid of the knife, and with one hand held around her waist he let his other hand caress her throat. Her pulse beat quickly under his palm, and his hand lingered, pressed a little, rendering her a brief flash of fear before it slid further.

Following the outline of her collarbones, his thumb sought out the imperfection above her right breast, stroking it back and forth. Lisa squirmed uncomfortably underneath, feeling how her legs grew weaker and her breathing shallower.

_How can you feel so good? When you aren't?_

The heavy sluggish feeling in her legs remained as he let his hand glide further, touching her breasts through the thin fabric of her linen. Her chest heaved as she breathed. In. Out. In. Out. Shakily. Frightened. Aroused.

_No, no, no, no._ She squirmed in his grip. "Stop it."

He answered by pulling her much tighter to his body. "Leese... this stops when I say it does. But trust me... I'm only gonna do things you want..."

Lisa exhaled erratically. "You don't know how much I wish I could trust you... But... I just know I can't."

Jackson laughed softly behind her back. "I never lie."

"Yeah... you've told me that." She inhaled shakily. "Are you going to kill me, Jackson?"

He went quiet, and Lisa held her breath. His warm palm was still covering one of her breasts and she could feel her heart beat against his hand, like he was actually holding it... like he could crush it. The question hung heavy in the air between them. No one moved.

_You ARE!_

She felt her head begin to spin and realized it wasn't only his presence in itself; it was also the effect of the sleeping pills.

_No!_

"Jackson?" Her lips felt numb as they moved. She remained very still in his arms, feeling them warm and strong against her naked skin.

"I don't know that yet," he finally answered quietly, breathing into her ear, making her hair tickle a little as he exhaled.

"NO!" she screamed and began to twist and turn in his grip. Jackson caught her with both his arms around her waist and lifted her straight up so she couldn't get support for her feet.

"Set me down! I hate you!" She kicked in the air and beat and clawed at his hands in her attempts to get him to loosen his iron hold.

"No, I won't... and no, you don't," he laughed, all of a sudden less tender, his voice hoarser from the effort.

Lisa slammed her head back and obviously hit him somewhere significant since he suddenly dropped her. She spun around and punched him in the face, squealing as a sharp pain shot through her right hand as if she had broken something.

Jackson touched his bleeding nose and pressed his lips together in anger. Lisa tended to her hurt hand, grimacing, and stared fearfully at Jackson. She'd seen that look before and knew enough to get really afraid when he displayed it.

Things were going to get messy.

When he straightened, she was prepared. She'd had her eyes focused on one single item, and as he moved, she bolted in his direction instead of the opposite and went for the knife that still lay on the table next to him.

She could feel her fingers curl around the shaft, then they slipped as his elbow connected with her temple. _Ahhh!_ Pain wrecked her head and she landed on her knees with a groan. When she fell, she accidentally pushed the small table and the knife fell with her. Ignoring the throbbing in her head, and the aching hand, she gripped the knife with her left hand and twisted around, searching for her attacker.

She never saw him coming. A boot clad foot took a swipe at her chin and she fell to the floor with a silent gasp. On the verge of consciousness, still clutching the knife in her left hand, she protected her head with her other arm and tried to get up, only to get kicked again, this time in her chest, rendering her breathless for a moment.

"Stop," she panted hoarsely, hearing her own voice like from a distance.

A firm hand brutally gripped her shoulder and turned her over. He was a frightening sight. In the pale moonlight that shone through the curtains, she saw pale eyes gleaming with malice, a nose and chin drenched with a dark substance and a mouth open as if to snarl, scream, bite... to kill... Her eyes widened at the image. It wasn't possible... such creatures didn't exist.

Like a werewolf from her darkest imagination.

_No..._

She screamed as he placed a foot on her throat, holding her down by the pressure on her larynx. "I don't know what to say, Leese..." He panted as he spoke, wiping some of the blood off his nose with the back of his hand. "I want so much to hurt you right now. I want to rip you open..." He licked at his bloodied lips. "Make you feel every bit of the pain you've made me feel... and it's not only physical pain, Leese..." He shook his head and removed his foot, turning away from her slightly, sighing, "But that's not how I wanted this to be... you know we can be so much more; more than fighters."

'_Let me make love to you...'_

Lisa still clutched the knife. Her mind was tilting. Seeing him in a haze, she moved ever so carefully now that his attention wasn't entirely on her. A depraved wolf like this one needed to die, or he'd only get a new innocent victim at each full moon. She clasped the knife hard in her left hand and got up on her feet in a crouching position. He saw her move and turned towards her again, but Lisa struck before she could think, aiming for his dark fur clad back with her knife. Jackson twisted in an impossible speed and managed to get an arm up and strike back, his claws digging into her tender flesh.

Someone screamed.

When Lisa a moment later lay hurt and bleeding on the floor, Jackson sat beside her witch clenched teeth, both staring at the knife that sat embedded in the side of his upper right arm.

_Kill me. _

_Just kill me. _

_I can't do this any more...Kill me before I transform... I don't...want... to be a... wolf... _Her head was spinning sickeningly, and finally she succumbed to the drowsiness, the cotton field of red hot nothingness that her mind kept wanting to pull her soul into.

She stared at the gleam of cold silver, dancing above her, and then she closed her eyes.

-

-

He watched the knife that stuck out of his arm, then the woman that lay bleeding next to him on the floor. One moment she'd been fighting like a tigress and the next her eyes had virtually rolled back in her head and she had closed them, seemingly fallen asleep. He shook his head, grimaced, and stopped himself from punching her yet another time.

_Perhaps she has a concussion?_

That wouldn't be too unlikely given the blows her head had received the last few minutes. With a growl he stood and pulled the knife out of his arm with a sickening sucking sound, roaring from the pain and the effort. After one heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats, the blood started to flow out of the wound, like it always did. Without hesitation, he bent down and insensitively ripped Lisa's linen in two and tied it around the wound, using his teeth to help creating a tight knot.

_Two advantages... stops the blood flow and gives me something to watch... _

Lisa hadn't reacted.

_Shit._

He touched her chin with the edge of his shoe. Her head lolled away from him, but she didn't react.

He crouched next to her. Reveling at the sight of her naked chest, Jackson couldn't help but smile a little. "Leese."

No reaction.

In spite of his wound, and grimacing from pain, he grabbed under her back and legs and lifted her, placing her on the bed.

_Absolutely beautiful. _

"Leese?" he whispered in her ear. She moaned slightly and turned her head towards him, but didn't open her eyes.

"Teeth," she suddenly hissed and went silent again.

He frowned and gripped her chin. Her nose was bleeding and he pinched it, wiggling it from side to side to see if it seemed broken. It didn't. Then his hand wandered to her mouth, opening it, caressing her bloodied lips, smearing the thick sticky substance like lipstick. She had a cut on her lower lip; he tasted his own lower lip where he had an equal cut.

_An eye for an eye..._

He brought his fingers to his mouth and licked at them; their blood tasted the same. Thick. Metal. Rich.

Gripping her chin, he bent closer and licked at her bloodied lip, the tip of his tongue caressing her wound, breaking it open again.

His hand slid as he sat back a little and his fingers painted a straight crimson pattern down along her throat; he could feel her swallow underneath, making him wonder if she wasn't faking the whole deep sleep-thing after all. He squeezed her throat slightly.

No reaction.

He squeezed it harder, so hard it must be truly uncomfortable. So hard it made him wonder if he really were in control of himself at this moment, or if he would kill her here and now. The thought made him breathe heavier and he abruptly let go, like he'd burnt himself.

Lisa moaned a little, but had made no attempt to defend herself.

Watching her half naked form before him was intoxicating. The urge to relieve her of the rest of the clothes and take her fully without her even knowing it was sorely tempting. His loins ached painfully at the thought and the visions they created.

_But I WANT you to know..._

_I want you to KNOW._

_What you did yourself. _

He let his fingers wander further, stroking, circling, enjoying the goosebumps that erupted under his fingertips on her naked skin. When his hand reached the lining of her pajama pants, he hesitated, shoved them slightly down, letting them bounce up again, slowly shoving them further down until he felt coarse hair against his skin, letting them bounce up again.

Lisa's breathing gradually changed from the heavy slow rhythm her sleep had induced and became shallower, more erratic; her hips were barely visibly bucking up to meet his caress, encouraging his exploration. The last time he let his hand wander ever so slowly under the fabric, threading through the coarse hair that covered the delicate silkiness underneath.

_Oh and silky... and Leese! I think you're enjoying yourself!_

A grin of satisfaction spread across Jackson's face as he pulled his hand back, tasting Lisa on his fingers, salty sweetness mixed with the metallic taste of both his and her blood.

He stood.

Time to be nicer.

_Soon._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Don't own

**Author's Note:** Like I've said before; this is the story of two confused, tormented souls, a feverish night mare.

Thanks for reading.

Love, Nic.

**3.**

Lisa was fighting.

Her arms and legs battled numerous faceless creatures. In her dreams she was an avenger out of the dark; like an Amazon fighter with one breast cut off to be a better shooter; like a Goddess from the Greek mythology; invincible. Still in her drug-induced haze, she kept fighting for her life. Running through the dark woods with only the full moon shining through the trees to accompany her, she heard them come closer; the pack of ravaging werewolves. With claws... and teeth... and muscles... fur... A grey blur of danger; a blue-eyed mass of fright... She knew that if she didn't reach safety in time... before they... touched her...

Then she'd be...

They'd...

She didn't know.

Her mind kept producing images of bodies torn to pieces, gaping throats and howling creatures, but she knew that wasn't the real danger. It was something far more subtle than that, and she couldn't for the life of it remember what she needed to protect herself against.

A man stood in front of her. The terrifying sounds of the beasts behind her had vanished. Even the forest itself was dead quiet.

It was HIM. The only one that had touched her. REALLY touched her.

Demon.

He was a demon. With piercing blue eyes, incredibly high cheekbones, and sharp teeth that glinted in the dark, he pulled her towards him with powers she was unable to resist. And she was doomed. Doomed for not fighting him. It would not only take her life, it would also take her soul.

She knew this and still she went to him.

Because she needed him.

To mend her torn soul.

Or to lose it forever.

A caress, soft, warm, along her throat. Suddenly she had no clothes and the hand continued towards her breasts, the sensation so painfully good, so perfect that she arched into his touch, her nipples stretching towards his palm. It continued along her belly, the warmth of it turning into burning heat as the touch lingered over her mound, radiating heat and pleasure she hadn't thought possible, before it continued to the spot that had longed for a touch, for love, for an eternity now.

'_Let me make love to you...'_

When he lowered himself over her, she suddenly inhaled deeply, as if for the first time ever, like a newborn taking her first breath, and opened her eyes.

In the first confused moment, she didn't know where she was or what had happened, but as her body began to remind her with an aching soreness, it all came back.

She had fallen asleep... in the middle of a fight with... _a wolf?_

It was bright in the room now... it had been dark. Really dark... black.

No.

Sleeping pills. She'd taken pills. _Hallucinations... that must be it_!

Blue eyes.

Had he been there at all?

Slowly lifting the blanket, her eyes widened and she gasped at what she saw. She was covered in dried blood all over the upper part of her chest. When she raised her right arm to touch herself, she screamed right out in pain. A bone in her hand might be broken, judging from the intensity of the pain. Looking at it; she saw a dark bluish ugly swelling over her fifth knuckle.

She vaguely remembered hitting him.

_A knife! _

She gasped and felt hastily all over her chest with her left palm to see if she was cut, but found no wound. _Is HE cut? Is it HIS blood? _

Suddenly she sat straight up, groaning from the ache in her head, her face, her back... everywhere.

_Where is he?_

Throughout all the agony she experienced from her battered body, she felt a continuous vague throbbing between her legs... from a sacred, wounded place she had refused to acknowledge for the last couple of years of her life.

_You didn't..._ A fear deeper than her fear for her life crept up on her. _You didn't!_

Call it really stupid, call it wishful thinking; but Lisa knew. She just knew he wouldn't violate her. The look in his eyes when he'd seen the scar for the first time... when he'd known the truth about her disgrace... _No, you wouldn't._

He might be able to hurt her, even kill her mercilessly, but he wouldn't rape her.

At least she was fairly sure about that...

-

-

'_Let me make love to you...'_

Was it that simple? Had it been the third night? He'd come to her house for the third night in a row, refusing to leave. Intent on touching her against her will, but so obviously aware of how she responded to him, how forcefully she was pulled towards him. And she had responded... her body ached at the remembrance of his touch; so tender when they hadn't been at war with each other. She'd needed him, and he'd needed her. Why else would he have been there? Why would he go through all this trouble?

If he'd just wanted her dead... Lisa shuddered at the thought; given the fact that she must have fallen asleep yesterday with him still in the house... He could have killed her many times over.

Is it too late now?

Too late for tender?

-

-

On the horrible sixth night they'd almost killed each other.

They'd been aiming at each other with a knife, with shoes and fists, slamming whatever they could find into tender flesh, aiming for killing blows... or at the very least very hurting ditto. _I should leave._ She knew one of them wouldn't survive the seventh night. And the likeliness that it would be her was high...

_But if I leave he'll go for someone I love._ She was as sure of that as of the fact that grass was green and that honey came from bees.

_I could take pills. Lots of pills... I'd sleep through it... He'll come here, but I'll be asleep... and he'll leave... or ... I won't wake... when he... _

-

-

_When he kills me._

-

-

She'd spent the day in the closest ER, tending to her wounds, mainly her broken fifth knuckle on the right hand. Now a big white plaster covered her hand.

In spite of all the nose blood, her nose hadn't been broken. She had ugly bluish bruises under her eyes, a sore lower lip where it had split. Her chest felt battered and she had numerous bluish marks all over her upper body as well as on her legs. Marks from fingers, elbows, teeth... Not on her lower body, she noted with some sense of satisfaction.

She'd had to explain herself to the staff. The doctor and the nurse had stared at her with concerned faces that told her that they didn't buy the story about a fight against a burglar that had broken in last night, and that she had already reported the incident to the police.

Almost bursting out in a hysterical giggle, she'd had to calm herself before she could look the friendly nurse in the eyes.

"If he beats you, honey..." She handed Lisa a brochure from a shelter for women. "Leave now. Don't end up dead. You're worth more."

"Ehm... thanks."

Lisa staggered out of the emergency. She hadn't eaten since yesterday. Her mouth still hurt too much and her stomach had revolted each time her more reasonable mind had suggested food.

It was six thirty p.m.

On the seventh night. _In a few hours I'll know._

Her body tensed before the unavoidable, her skin tickled and ached. It was like all hair on her body stretched for his touch, even when she was just thinking about him. '

_Wonder what he looks like? Did I really stab him?_

_If I make it tonight; will he leave me then? Or is that the point? I won't make it tonight..._

She longed to meet him. She couldn't wait to see him again. The sight of his clear honest eyes, his full lips and seeking that rare smile was the only thing that soothed her restless, ever fearful and tormented soul. Until he induced worse pain...

She probably deserved it...

-

-

_Savers..._

Her hands were trembling hard as she held the about fifteen little white sleeping pills in the sweaty palm of her hand. _White pills in a white palm_. She didn't smile. She didn't want to die... but she wasn't sure if the amount would only render her deeply unconscious or if they would, in fact, take her life. She'd heard that people took hundreds... so fifteen seemed like a good compromise. The only thing she wanted was to be unable to wake up this night.

_The seventh night of our descent to hell..._

He eyes diverted to the clock on the wall. Five to nine. _Five to dead... Hope not._

It was the seventh night.

She didn't know what it meant, but her body tried to tell her something, and for once she was trying to listen. It longed for him. Her eyes longed to sink into the deep blue pools of his. Her cheeks longed to feel his two-day stubble again, the slight delicate rasp when he rubbed against her. Her back, her stomach, her arms and her legs all ached from missing his body pressed into hers.

He was the poison and she was the addict.

If she hadn't known better, she'd have mistaken her own feelings for love.

_This is not love!_

_Love doesn't hurt. Love is reciprocal. Love makes you happy. Love doesn't sneak up at night with a knife. Love doesn't... feel like it'll eat you alive. _

_Or does it? _

He had never come before ten as of yet, and she longed for one last cup of tea. An electrician had taken care of the blackout earlier the same day, swearing over kids that could never leave other people's property alone.

Lisa had carried her wounded hand in a bandage and said nothing.

Putting some water in a kettle to boil, she laid the pills in a small cup on the counter. She looked in the cupboard but dismissed everything she saw. She just wasn't hungry.

Tea would be good, though.

Trembling fingers put tea leaves in a small metallic container. It was buckled; had been for years. She stretched for a used cup, but changed her mind and took down the largest, most beautiful cup she owned, grimacing from the pain in her chest as she moved. The cup was a piece of art in itself; hand made, bought by her father a few years back on Ireland. Her fingers unconsciously traced the outlines of the roses painted on the cup's outside while her eyes kept glancing at the watch.

Five minutes past nine.

Time stood still.

She knew he'd come.

She wanted to be prepared.

Her body longed for him, for his electrifying touches, for his warm breath and those eyes that erased every previous notion of normal.

Normal became him.

-

-

He kept his eyes fixed on the center of the road where the white lines rapidly disappeared in the periphery as he passed them. _Like my life._ The sun had set an hour ago, just about the same time as he had checked out of the motel he'd been staying at for the last few weeks. The little clothes he owned lay stuffed in a bag at the back of the car and he was driving in silence.

He'd cut all connections with his associates a couple of weeks back. His traces led nowhere now and within a week a body with a striking resemblance to his would come floating downstream in the black river. He had no birth certificate and no records of ever existing. The body wasn't for the authorities; it was for private eyes only.

He'd thrown it all away.

With piercing steel, puncturing his lung, his spleen, his soul and his immortality, she'd burnt herself into his destiny. Their fates were intertwined now, with blood, metal, tears and a kiss...

Normality as he'd known it had ceased to exist when she broke the rules of her existence.

She was supposed to die.

Not to fight back.

Not to win.

His hands gripped the steering wheel harder and squeezed the leather underneath. White line – black asphalt– white line – black asphalt – white – black – white – black.

The rhythm soothed his aching body.

Tonight she'd be his. Tonight they'd become one.

It was the seventh night.

The last night.

-

-

Lisa felt completely numb as she grabbed the cup with her left hand and sipped at the brown, bitter-sweet liquid. Staring emptily in front of her, she waited. Nine-thirty.

A water tap dripped somewhere in the house. Rhythmic, repeatedly, annoyingly accurate. The fridge hummed quietly. It was a calming sound.

Nine-forty five.

She rose and placed the cup on the counter. It was time. With a trembling hand, she took the plastic cup with the little white pills and held it before her.

Then she determinedly poured all of them in her mouth and swallowed the content with the last of her tea. It had turned cold.

She slumped over the bench, her head in her hands and trembled with mental exhaustion. _This had better work._

"Trying to rob me of all the fun?" A soft voice to her left.

Lisa jerked and looked up at him as if he was a ghost. _He's here._ Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his presence.

"I didn't hear you enter."

"When did you ever?"

She looked down at the plastic cup in her hand and then she dropped it as if it had burnt her. "No," she acknowledged.

"How many did you take, Leese?"

"Enough."

He took a long stride towards her and gripped her wrist. "Enough for what?"

"Enough to make it easy for you," she said softly. "Enough so I won't have to feel it."

His gaze darkened a shade. "Feel what, Lisa?" Clenched teeth.

"I... I don't know... what ever you plan on doing..."

"I need you to get rid of those."

"No." She tried to back away from him, but his grip on her wrist tightened.

"Yes. Go and throw up. Now!" His voice was sharp and left no room for interpretation or negotiation.

Lisa nodded and hung her head. "Let me go, then."

"I'll go with you."

"No... OK..."

He held her hair back as she bent over the toilet and stuck two fingers down her throat. The little stomach content she had almost immediately came in return; brownish tea with small, barely melted pills in it. Two cascades, and a third, smaller. Then she was empty. Spent.

And Jackson was satisfied.

"Did you try to run from me?"

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and rinsed her face and hand in cold water. He handed her a towel and she took it, watching him warily, expecting him to lash out at her any second.

_Yes._ "Sorry."

He shook his head. "Do you want to die?"

"Ehm... no... no, but I thought..."

"I don't care what you think. Get over here."

Lisa dropped the towel and approached him hesitantly.

"Let me look at you." He gently gripped her chin and turned her head, inspecting the bruises under her eyes and on her lower lip with professional interest. Her eyes darted up to meet his, and before she could stop herself, her hand had raised and started to trace his bruised face as well. Touching his swollen lower lip and watching fascinated as he winced with pain, she then let her hands wander to his eyebrow that displaced a small cut. He smelled fresh, and the blood that must have dried there, in his eye brows, in the hair line, on his cheek, had been thoroughly washed away.

She knew because she'd looked the same. And it had taken time to get rid of it all. It had colored the water red; rivulets of crimson, of life itself pouring down on the white tiles.

His eerie eyes followed hers, piercing through her fear with their strength. She wanted to drown in them, let them swallow her, mend her, make her woman again and never turn back to look at where she came from.

HIS woman.

_Take me away._

His caresses felt like a lovers.

And she knew they weren't.

What she hadn't known was that death could be so tender.

So warm.

'_Let me make love to you...'_

_Yes._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything of this weird stuff... Oh, that's right, the weirdness might be mine...

**Author's Note:** It's been difficult, tying this together... they ahm... involve in some blood play... and... get closer. When I started writing this, the words rushed out of my fingers, but I did have a temperature and was clearly in the right mood somehow... Now it's been harder... Next chapter will include the resolution... and be the last. Have a good read. Let me know what you think.

;) Nic.

**4.**

Jackson pulled at her hooded sweater. "Take this off."

Shivering under his merciless and yet oddly admiringly gaze, she let go of his cheek and grabbed the lining of her shirt, slowly yanking it upwards until she lost eye contact with him. Almost panicking in the sudden dark, needing to be able to see him, she quickly pulled it the rest of the way.

Everything felt crystal clear now. This was what had to happen. She had never seen his face so sharp, his lucid eyes so brilliant, his even teeth so white. Even the air felt different to breathe. _I should start to dull soon... _Then she realized she'd thrown them up. Her little white pills; they hadn't had the time to have any effect at all. She wouldn't dull this night. She wouldn't fall mercifully into comatose sleep, wouldn't hallucinate... couldn't imagine in the morning that it had all been just a bad dream.

_If the morning comes..._

The night ahead lay frighteningly long and un-written.

Standing before him, shivering in her vulnerability, with only her white cotton bra to cover her chest, she straightened herself and let him inspect her.

Proud for the first time in years.

Proud because she knew with which eagerness he wanted her, HER, knew of the intensity that burned in his chest. She had felt it many times now. It manifested itself in his touch, in his violence, in his eyes.

She had never felt so wanted. Or so loved.

_This is not love._

'_Let me make love to you.'_

With a feather light touch, he traced a bruise on her right cheek down along the tensed muscles on her throat to her collarbone where he pressed slightly at another bruise.

Wincing from the sting, she still didn't move. She studied his face, amazed at the thought that such a beautiful creature was standing here, in her bathroom, late this Sunday evening, touching her... needing her... drowning without her.

Drowning in her.

She flinched when his fingers slid lower, not because there were any pain, but because of the old trauma. Old but never forgotten. Old and yet always with her.

"Easy, Leese," he whispered hoarsely, his voice clearly affected by emotions. She shook her head, and then nodded, trying to comply. He stroked the scar affectionately, tracing its outline on her body like she had traced the delicate rose on the white china tea cup earlier. "You know... I could cut that away..."

Lisa jerked and stepped half a step away from him. He didn't move.

"But that would hurt you... wouldn't it?" His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, like for confirmation.

Inhaling deeply, she nodded and stepped forward again, with her left hand taking a tender hold of his hand that was still in the air and laid it back on her scar. "It would hurt me more," she confirmed, whispering, not entirely able to hide the tremor in her voice.

He covered the scar with his left palm, as if keeping it their secret, and lifted his right hand. Pulling some tendrils of hair away from her neck, he laid his palm at her left shoulder and began to slowly pull down the strap of her bra with his crooked thumb. Lisa's breathing quickened and she sought his eyes for comfort.

Stepping closer, he leveled his head with hers and found her lips with his. A quick brush of softness, a clean smell of fabric softener, stubble at his cheek rasping against hers.

"Relax, Leese," he mumbled.

How could she relax when all she wanted to do was either run or throw herself at him and tear the clothes off his body? And when she didn't even know what she wanted the most.

"Yes," she said thickly, clearing her throat.

Above her left breast, partly hidden under the bra was another bruise. Jackson slowly uncovered it and lowered his head until his lips touched it. Lisa gasped from the tingling dizzying sensation of his kiss and shivered as she felt his tongue on her skin. Gradually, the pressure of his lips increased and gasping with pain, she grabbed his hair with her good hand and held on, riding through a wave of hurt as he marked her again.

_This is not love._

_What is love?_

When he let go, she was dizzy with fear, hurt and, above all, intense arousal that she didn't dare to acknowledge. He looked at her and grinned smugly, and all she could do was slap him in the face.

It didn't hit very hard, but he was unprepared and his head jerked to the right. Demonic blue eyes glared at her through a curtain of dark hair as he licked his lip that had yet again started to bleed.

"You know you are going to regret that?" he asked calmly.

Lisa whimpered and dodged to the right of him, trying to slip between him and the basin. Jackson stretched out a leg and she fell straight on the hallway floor. Groaning from the pain when her broken hand hit the wooden floor, she still spun around and tried to get up, but he was already standing over her, snickering.

"We can do this two ways, Leese. There's always a choice."

"What choice?" she spat angrily. "You kill me slow, or you kill me quick?"

"Kill?" He tasted the word. "What interesting choices, thanks for the great input," he mocked. Crouching, he grabbed the hair at the back of her neck. "How about this; we're in this together and you stop hitting me? Or I can make your life difficult..."

She wanted to laugh, hadn't she been so afraid. _What is it now then?_

"If you force me, Jack..." She swallowed and winced from the pain of his grip. "If you force me, then you'll be nothing but a simple rapist... and I've BEEN there!"

Jackson regarded her, then he painfully slowly traced a line with the tip of his index finger from the hollow of her neck, down between her breasts and stopped at the lining of her pants. Goosebumps erupted along the way, her nipples hardened visibly through the bra and the trail kept on burning long after his finger had lifted from her skin.

"I don't see anyone who needs to be forced to anything, Leese..."

"Just because..." she protested.

"Let it go," he snapped. "Just give it up for fucks sake. This isn't a game. You know, just as well as I do, what you want."

She knew. And that was what hurt so much. She didn't WANT to want this. She didn't WANT to need this man so badly.

She gripped his hand at the back of her neck and squeezed it. "Let go."

He did and she slumped back on the floor.

"Help me up." She stretched her good hand towards him and he grabbed it, warm and strong, pulling her up until she stood in front of him.

"Why?" she asked.

He frowned. "Why what?"

"Why me?"

He took a strand of her hair between his fingers and twisted it slowly, sensuously. "You were the one who wouldn't budge. You were the one who fought back. I was going to kill you, and you... just didn't die... Besides..." He let go of her hair and caressed the top of her head, almost lovingly, letting his hand glide over the back of her head until it reached her neck where he stopped. "You can't deny the attraction between us. It's been there right from start. Right from when you felt my eyes on you in the line. I could see how you squirmed, how uncomfortable it made you... and still it was there, and you couldn't handle it..." He lifted an eye brow and his eyes glinted. "It... excited me."

Her skin burned where he touched her, and it was impossible to deny the truth in what he said. "I know," she said softly. "I know."

Jackson began moving forward, pushing her in front of him as he went, his palm still latched onto her neck. He steered her towards her bedroom. "I'll teach you how to handle it, Leese." His voice was thick as he let his arms glide over her naked skin, making her inhale, embracing her in his caress as he relentlessly pushed on forwards. "I'll let you find yourself, that animal inside that makes you so different. That separates you. The one you never released"

_How would you do that? You don't know it._

But she didn't dare to oppose him. It always tended to... hurt so damn much.

He stopped and laid his hands on hers, being surprisingly tender with the hurt hand, leading her hands to the buttons of his shirt. She took over and with trembling fingers started to unbutton the clean dark grey shirt that Jackson Rippner wore this day.

The day he came to finish this.

This very last day of a life.

-

-

With trembling fingers and wide eyes that displayed her dilated pupils, this little woman in front of him, Lisa Reisert, opened one button after the other on his shirt. He could see how excited she was. And she wasn't the only one who was short of breath.

For each accidental touch of her delicately cool fingers on his skin, a bolt of electricity surged through his chest.

_So cold._

He longed to see where she kept her warmth. He knew there'd be warmth. Every human, as long as their heart beat, was always warm somewhere... even if you sometimes had to cut them open to find it...

Jackson knew why her hands were so chilly; the circulation in them was strangled. It was her body's panicky attempt to direct the blood flow to her legs, heart and brain. He knew of her need to flee, to fly away. To escape.

_Not this time, Leese. And you don't even want to anymore, do you?_

He let go of the silky hair at her neck and stretched out his arms, gripping the doorframe for support as her fingers burnt a trace along his chest with each carefully opened button. Bending his head forward, he lost himself for a moment in the sensation of having her so close, so peaceful... and so beautifully frail.

_You took sleeping pills..._

He looked up at her pale, bruised face and smirked.

_So afraid..._

The thought gave way for a new painful wave of tension through his lower stomach, and he clutched the doorframe until his knuckles whitened.

Skin.

Touch.

Blood.

_Leese._

With a poorly constrained pant, he bolted forward, gripping her shoulders and spinning her around as he pushed her into the bedroom.

_Naked. _

_Now._

-

-

Lisa whimpered as he brutally shoved her forward. Stumbling to find her footing, she barely recognized the man from the airport anymore; the civilized, sweet handsome stranger she'd allowed herself to flirt with for a brief moment of her life. The fire that raged in his blue eyes now had perhaps glinted occasionally at the flight, and had been vividly present at her father's house in their fight for life and death. Now it never left his eyes. It was like an electrical storm.

_That's what this is... It's a fight... _

_Who will die first?_

If she could only reconcile with death. And with pain. Then she'd have nothing to fear.

But that would transform her. She would be less of herself... and more of him.

In either way a life would be lost tonight, and they both knew it.

"Jackson," she whispered, trying to pull him back to humanity, to something she could relate to and recognize. His chest heaved, his gaze burnt her skin wherever it traveled, his shirt was unbuttoned and hung loose on his shoulders.

He didn't answer. With sudden anger, she grabbed the shirt and pushed it off him, making sure to shove her hands against the bandaged right arm where she'd cut him the night before.

Jackson hissed with pain and grimaced. Then he smiled. Viciously. But at least he was back.

"That. Hurt," he said through clenched teeth.

Lisa raised an eyebrow and didn't flinch. "Good. 'Cause I've been getting the impression you like hurt."

His smile widened, and he bit his lower lip as he regarded her.

"I do. It's true, Leese. I do." He stretched behind his back and produced a huge knife that he held before her. It was a familiar sight. She'd seen it all too well before.

_Twelve inch KA-BAR..._

"I like hurt. Your hurt."

Lisa opened her mouth, but wasn't even able to gasp. She backed one step.

Jackson moved one step closer.

She backed one more step and jerked as the back of her legs hit the bed.

Transfixed, she stared at the glinting tip as he slowly turned it before her eyes. Then he lowered it and let the tip rest at her scar.

"You know, I could cut that away..." he said with a hoarse voice, tainted by obvious arousal, the sound of it making her stomach clench with anticipation.

Lisa could only mutely shake her head, their eyes never leaving each other; his devilishly blue and beautiful, hers huge gray-green and with tremendously dilated pupils.

"I'm... I'm fine," she finally managed.

Jackson smiled, her heart skipping a beat at the beauty of it, and let the tip slide lower, lower, along the midline until it rested on the bra.

A sudden whisk, a knick, a brief sting.

The already barely covering piece of cloth opened and her breasts fell free. Lisa gaped and inhaled at the short pain and the sudden attack. Glancing down, she saw a thin line of blood slowly descending from between her breasts. Still gaping, she looked accusingly at Jackson. "What the FUCK?!"

Then she swallowed audibly as he lowered the knife and stalked closer, gripping the lining of her pants, slowly, gently bringing her closer.

When he bent his head and tasted the warm life that dripped out of her body, her mind desperately tried to tell her it was wrong, but was over-ridden by the nerve endings of her body that screamed it felt insanely good.

Tongue.

Touch.

Longing.

Fulfilling.

_Jackson._

Grabbing his hair, she pushed him even closer, pressing him towards her, wanting to melt into him. She knew she was going to get hurt. More. Much more. And it felt so tempting, thrilling... so exciting, not knowing what lay ahead.

Lisa hadn't felt so alive in years. Possibly ever.

She trembled violently in his gentle hold, the pressure from his lips the only sensation her body was able to focus upon.

"Jackson," she croaked.

No response.

"Jackson!" She grabbed his head and forced him to look up at her.

His full lips quivered and then he smiled, sweetly, making her heart come to a complete stop. Just the look of those eyes alone made goosebumps erupt all over her body.

Without a word, he pushed her once more, making her fall on her back over the bed. With the knife still in his right hand, he climbed on top of her. Bringing the tip closer again, hushing soothingly at her when she winced, he delicately traced the curves of her naked belly, making a half circle around the navel, before he stopped by the lining of her pants. A sudden move by the sharp tip and the button flew. Lisa inhaled as he grabbed the fabric and tugged at it. She wasn't fully anticipating what he was actually doing until she heard the ripping sound of her pants tearing.

Gasping, she wriggled underneath him and tried to get away from this maniac with a knife cutting into her, but Jackson sat heavily on her, making her efforts futile. His eyes darted to meet hers; they looked glazed, dazed, and still so clear.

"Shhh, Leese," he whispered. "Trust me."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, her heart jolted, and just then she decided to do just that.

It must have been the hardest, most insane decision of her life, and still it came so easily.

Felt so right.

"OK," she mouthed, hope shining in her green eyes. Hope that he wouldn't betray her. Hope that the trust would be reciprocal.

She knew by now that Jackson must be insane. That something was very, very wrong with him.

And yet it felt so very, very right to be with him. She wished for nothing else than for him to possess her body like he already did her soul. She had been so weak, so empty, so void of all emotions, and now she felt complete, her life suddenly fiercely meaningful and clear.

Because he was here.

With her.

And she was here.

With him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I really, truly don't own any of these poor, poor characters.

**Author's Note:** Thank you all who has followed me through this weird story. I love you all. :D

I've been trying to write it less 'in order' and more out of the heads of the characters, like they'd experience it in their confused states of minds. Obviously, I also had a darker version of them in mind, a version where they didn't feel all too well to begin with and where their meeting served as a catalyst for threading deeper into the abyss of their souls. A place one might not be able to return from...

It started out as a feverish mad fantasy that more or less wrote itself in an insane speed, and I've had to struggle to finish it in the same spirit even when my 'fever' got cured... I hope I'm doing it justice, and I hope the end satisfies all of your expectations.

Big hugs to all of you and see you next time. ;)

Nicolina.

**5.**

In the dark cold night with only the stars to watch, Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner united violently in an unholy alliance. A deadly pact between wolves.

Bloodthirsty. Craving. Ferociously.

Jackson tore the last pieces of shredded cloth off her white skin; patch by patch, her pants were thrown onto the floor next to the bed.

A dark line of blood had made its way across her chest, looking like art, like calligraphy, like it actually had some hidden meaning. She also had several shallow and one deeper cut along the length of her legs. After the first cut she'd barely felt the others; high on adrenaline and thrown with arousal as he had relished each and every one of them. She couldn't lie still from the headiness within, and squirmed under his weight, every limb on fire, her toes curled, almost cramped with tension.

He had licked, sucked, bit and kissed and she had wriggled, gasped, screamed and cried.

With a metallic clunk the knife dropped to the floor.

He was finished undressing her.

Her breath came in short gasps as they stared at each other, amazed by what they were actually doing.

"Make love to me, Jackson." She gave in, used his own words, wanting him so badly, so afraid that he would punish her, leave her.

Tugging at his pants, Lisa tried to sit, desperate to feel his skin on hers, to devour his warmth and soothe the coldness within. She was brutally shoved back onto the bed with a deep growl, a sound she'd never have thought he could emit.

"Don't move."

_I want to. I need you._

Her head bounced against the mattress and then she stretched towards him again. She tried to touch his bare chest, tried to graze his horrifying scars with the tips of her fingers, but he caught her hand in a vicious grip. He squeezed it before he pushed her down onto the bed with his other hand at her throat, slamming both of her arms down and leaning over her, smirking.

Her skin jolted as she felt his chest towards hers.

"Jackson!" she hissed, temporarily halting him as he frantically began to shed his own last pieces of clothes while still immobilizing her. "Let me in!"

He gripped her chin and bent closer, so close that her heart sped up even more and her breathing became strained. His smooth skin was warm against her chilled. "How?" he whispered tauntingly.

_How?_

She took his hand and brought it along her throat, baring herself and her very life to him, all the way down to cover her heart, to cover her fresh wound. _How? _"I want to watch you bleed..."

His unreal eyes widened noticeably.

"...on me..." she added barely audibly, suddenly shocked, suddenly terrified of what she had started.

But he heard.

'_I know.' _His eyes said it, narrowing as they regarded her. _'I know you, Leese.'_ She saw it. He didn't have to say it out loud. His eyes already told her what he knew.

What she knew too.

Now.

Hadn't known in her previous life.

_We're the same. _

_We found each other. And we're the same. _

_You didn't kidnap me and force me to make things I didn't want. I deliberately brought myself to you, allowed you to take advantage of me and then I enjoyed beating the hell out of you. Enjoyed almost killing you..._

_I watched you bleed first. I drew your blood FOUR times before you even got to see mine..._

_I want you to share with me, like I will share with you. Bleed with me until one of us grows and one of us weakens... _

_Until one of us must die._

He sat back, expectantly, confused, eyes blazing.

Lisa wriggled out from under him, then she pushed him back until he lay with his back on the bed. Bending down, she picked up the knife from the floor.

Jackson watched her intently but didn't move a muscle. She knew why, she could feel him tense between her thighs and knew he was ready to strike within a fraction of a second if he'd need to.

Smiling wryly, she let the sharp edge of the knife slowly slide over his taut stomach, the muscles involuntarily ripping underneath. _You don't think I'd do it... do you?_

The power intoxicated her and as she let the sharp edge nick him, just a little, as she cut away the button of his pants, she could have driven it all the way in. _You used me!_ She could see it happen, see the blood, the tear in his pale skin, feel the satisfaction.

Instead, she gripped his pants and began slicing them, occasionally cutting him, like he had done to her. She relished his grimaces with pain, and shivered from the beautifully cold, penetrating gaze he kept intent on her.

Tearing the final pieces of clothes off him, she then slapped him hard across the face.

"I hate you."

He smirked and licked his hurting lips. "I know. That coin flips two ways."

It was a battle. It was love making of sorts, but not of any kind that any other man or woman would have acknowledged. They bit and grabbed, wrenched each other inside out in the fight for lust and life.

For death.

-

-

When they finally did meet in the dark night, the last night, joined by fright, passion and hate, it was all perfect. She fit him like no other woman had ever done before when he buried himself in her soft silky wetness.

It had been easier than he'd thought. Yes, she had fought him, but only half-heartedly. Yes, she had screamed and cursed, but not as loud or as viciously as he had imagined.

He realized as he battled her that he longed for her. A dull ache in his chest region kept pulling him towards her, kept needing her skin, her warmth, her strong, ferocious energy.

If he'd had a heart, he would have thought it actually hurt.

But Jackson didn't have a heart.

Beasts don't.

And he knew he was a beast. An animal. Lurking under the polished, civilized surface he showed off to the world lay a hungry, roaring predator desperately needing to be sated.

A kill.

A well performed, cautiously planned, technically skilled kill had since long been what he needed to feed it. As if he was feasting on the souls of his victims, temporarily using them instead of his own black hole.

_And YOU deprived me of that. _

_I know what you think. I know why you think I'm here. _

_You're not entirely wrong, Leese, I want your body too. _

_But I am here to take what is rightfully mine. _

_What you stole. _

Lisa felt good.

Oh, so good.

He hurt her. He knew that. Surprisingly enough, she hurt him too.

A lot.

He liked that.

A lot.

Their meeting was fierce. It was all about retaliation, revenge. 'You did that to me, now I'll do this to you.' And they both had issues from the past.

He could feel a sense of pride in how he released her. They took command in turns, and Lisa obviously enjoyed every moment of being in charge. He grew with her fear when he challenged her back.

Sweating, pushing, gripping, groaning, they drove each other closer and closer to the end.

To salvation.

Jackson trembled with exhaustion and excitement.

When Lisa threw her head back and the veins on her throat swelled from the intensity of the pleasure; when her body shook and shuddered with her release, he moved.

Painfully close to the limit himself, he carefully bent over and grabbed the knife.

_I. Want. Your. Soul._

Heart.

_I love you, Lisa._

-

-

It didn't hurt.

It didn't hurt at all.

When he forced the large knife into her chest, pushing it all the way to the hilt, she was in the trembling aftermath of her release and Jackson was still relishing his. Her skin bid the same resistance to his sharpened blade as butter in sunshine.

She didn't even get it at first. Her brain had had such an overload of sensations that this one in particular didn't evoke any special response. The sudden feeling of a deceptively blunt stab to the heart felt like a part of her orgasm, felt like it did every time she looked into his eyes.

Then she felt a slow stream of warm wetness trickle down the side of her chest.

Watching the gleaming black shaft of the knife protruding out of her pale flesh, she just couldn't understand how it could not hurt. She imagined she could feel the beats of her heart against the cold metal blade, and she saw how the shaft trembled, nervously, almost tenderly with every heavy strike, every time her blood pumped through her chest.

_It's a knife._

_In my chest._

_So finally it happened. _

It all occurred in slow motion after that. No thought at all. Her body was still humming pleasantly, greedily licking the last fire out of their union. She felt so grateful to him; for releasing her, for showing her how good it could be.

She smiled, lazily, her eyelids half shut.

Slowly stretching her hand to the side, she gripped the lamp next to the bed and raised her arm, slamming the heavy wooden piece with all her force into Jackson's temple. The light globe broke. Thousands of small shards of glass embedded themselves in his face and whirled down on her chest. Two hundred and thirty volts of current made its way into his body through his brain and he fell off the bed, twitching in a macabre death dance.

It had all happened by chance. By impulse.

It still didn't hurt.

Her lips were turning numb.

_Sleepy._

Groaning, she rolled herself off the bed and crawled sideways along the floor, all the way out into the hallway. Her mind began to slip as she dialed the numbers with fingers that barely obeyed her.

9...1...

...1

She was still conscious when they arrived, laying in the hallway, staring at the roof. The all too familiar sounds of sirens in the distance. Blue lights dancing across the walls of her house.

_It needs new paint. _

_The roof._

She knew she wasn't going to make it.

But she didn't care.

Jackson was dead. What more was there to say?

If she'd had the energy to shrug, she would have.

"We're going to take care of you, Miss. It'll be all right. Who did this to you?" a friendly voice somewhere close to her head asked.

_A werewolf._

She didn't answer, just lifted her arm half an inch above the floor and pointed in the direction of the bedroom. A stab of hurt made its way through her chest.

_Dead._

"Ehm," Friendly Voice said as they loaded her onto the stretcher.

"There's no one else in the house, Miss."

-

-

She'd had palm prints of blood all over her body when they'd found her, her voice had been hoarse and her throat sore, and she remembered that somebody was screaming, but she couldn't recall why.

Later they said she'd screamed.

That she hadn't made a sound until they'd said the house was empty.

She had vague memories of what had actually happened that long cold night in October. She'd been rushed to the hospital; the flashing bluish lights from the ambulance had given the surrounding buildings a surrealistic perspective and the echo from the sirens still lingered in her head. Still conscious when she entered the ER, she'd heard them talk about 'pneumothorax' and 'blood filled cardiac sac'.

Then she'd tuned out.

-

-

'_Let me make love to you.'_

In crimson fluids of life they'd painted each other's destruction and rebirth.

He had corrected everything wrong in her life that night.

_'This is not love.'_

But he had whispered that he loved her before he'd buried his twelve inch darling knife in her body. Why would he waste a perfect knife on somebody, just anybody?

It didn't make sense.

_If it feels like love. _

_Why can't it be?_

He had burnt away the hated mark on her body, IN her body, with his heated passion; with the right she'd given him to love her in his own twisted ways.

Lisa Reisert did die that day.

After having Jackson's blood all over her, she had changed. His soul had broken into hers... tearing it to pieces and reattaching the remains, like a Frankenstein's monster, parts of him, parts of her.

After killing him a second time, after dying with him and still breathing, she could feel him.

Waiting.

Lurking.

Growing.

When she left the hospital with scars all over her body, she packed her bags the same night, wrote a short note to her family, locked the house for the last time, dropped the key in the mailbox, and left.

'_You were very lucky, Miss. The knife just grazed the heart...' 'Lung collapsed...' '...had to drain the cardiac sac...'_

_No._

_It wasn't luck, Doc. _

_It's how it's supposed to be._

She had worn most of her scars on the inside, bending backwards to re-adjust, to feel again, to be someone again. After meeting with Jackson she wore her scars visibly, proudly, forgot about re-adjusting and went on her hunt.

And she knew who she was.

He was still out there.

Breathing.

Living.

Not for long.

_I'm coming for you._

_The coin has flipped, Jack. _

_It's my turn now._

She'd hunt him down, not stopping until she found him. She knew it would never end. If she'd come out of their next meeting alive, he'd be after her again.

If she died she'd be set free.

_We're wolves. _

_It's not love, love isn't for our kind, but it's what we have._

-

-The End.-


End file.
